


Dogs Don't Wear Hats

by doodledinmypants



Series: Uncaged [1]
Category: Lupin III
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Brainwashing, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dissociation, Human Trafficking, Hurt/Comfort, I repeat: THERE ARE NO SEXY DOG BOYS HERE ONLY SAD ONES, Lupin is an asshole but what else is new, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Groping, Non-consensual sex, Please take care of yourselves, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Violence, Torture, Trauma, Trauma Recovery, deprogramming, humans in cages, humans treated like dogs, includes cover art, it's sad dog boy hours over here, none of the sex in this is sexy or nice, please don't read if you are sensitive to any of the topic tags or sexual trauma in general, trauma recovery is not a straight line
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:14:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28435941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doodledinmypants/pseuds/doodledinmypants
Summary: When Jigen and Zenigata are captured by a human trafficking ring and "trained" into becoming human pets and sex slaves, they turn to each other to find their humanity again along the bumpy road to recovery.
Relationships: Ishikawa Goemon XIII & Jigen Daisuke, Jigen Daisuke & Arsène Lupin III, Jigen Daisuke & Zenigata Kouichi, Jigen Daisuke/Zenigata Kouichi, Mine Fujiko & Zenigata Kouichi
Series: Uncaged [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2082864
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	Dogs Don't Wear Hats

**Author's Note:**

> Lupin III is my new hyperfixation, and I hate it. I hate it specifically because it makes me want to write nothing but Long Fic and draw OT4/OT5 orgy scenes. And then THIS piece of shit came to me after a conversation in a Dark NSFW Lupin Discord channel (you know who you are, you fuckers), and it DEMANDED I write it before any of the other fics I had planned, AND instead of being an unrepentant horny dog boy fic I had to go and make it FUCKING SAD. 
> 
> NO SEXY TIMES FOR YOU UNTIL YOU WORK OUT YOUR TRAUMA, FICTIONAL CARTOON MEN. 
> 
> Why am I like this.
> 
> S/O to Gerbilfluff for the beta reading and helping me talk through some dark shit. You're a boss.

  
  
The smell was always the first thing Jigen noticed upon waking. Sweat, shit, piss, blood. Fear. Desperation. Sex.

He tried to block out the whimpers from the other cages. Focused on working loose that one screw in the corner of his cage with his fingernail, slowly, just a little at a time so his captors wouldn’t notice. It wouldn’t be enough to weaken the structural integrity of the cage itself, solid metal frame with thick wire bars criss-crossing each side, spaces only big enough to stick a couple of fingers through (among other things), but maybe he could pick the lock with it. The cage was cramped, not enough room for his long arms and legs to stretch out in any direction. He could sleep on his back with his head in one corner and his hips crammed in the diagonal opposite corner, legs and arms folded on top of himself, or he could curl into a fetal position on his side. He could sit upright, hair brushing the top of the cage, but he couldn’t stand. It was a kennel for a dog, not a man. 

Two days after Jigen had arrived, they’d put another man in the cage adjacent to his. A familiar face should have felt like a lifeline, a ray of hope, but Inspector Zenigata’s bruised jaw and swollen eye only made Jigen’s stomach knot with dread. If these people were willing to take a goddamn police officer, an Interpol agent, then they weren’t going to give up their “merchandise” without a fight. Blood would spill before this was over.

“Hang in there, Pops,” Jigen intoned, leaning close to where their cages were closest. There was a gap between them, just a few inches, but it prevented them from touching more than just fingertips. “If I don’t get us out of here first, Lupin will come for us.”

“Lupin?” That roused the big guy. Jigen smiled a little despite their situation; at least some things were still predictable. “Where is he?”

Jigen swallowed, throat dry. They hadn’t brought him any water yet today. “I don’t know. But he’ll have a plan, knowing him. Just bear with it a little longer. Try to focus on something from your police training, go over it in your head over and over again. Multiplication tables. Menus from your favorite restaurants. Anything. You gotta stay lucid, you hear me?”

“Lupin,” repeated Zenigata, sad, a little slurred. “Slipped through my fingers again.”

“ _Pops_!” Jigen was risking a lot, raising his voice to a hissed whisper to get Zenigata’s attention. “Stay. With. Me. Don’t lose your mind in here, or it’s gonna be hell when we gotta run.”

Zenigata was quiet for several minutes, and Jigen feared he’d gone back to sleep. Then, with a heavy groan, he rolled over so that he was facing Jigen’s cage. His face looked like tenderized meat, crusted with snot and blood. His fingers poked through the side, wiggling vainly towards Jigen. Jigen hesitated, then stuck his own fingers through to brush briefly against Zenigata’s. “Okay,” said Zenigata, voice just as low. “Okay, I’m with you.”

Jigen nodded, relieved, then returned to scratching at the screw. Two of his fingernails had been torn to the quick already. He couldn’t stop. He didn’t have anything else he could try.

Their captors were coming. The cages were small, and when they wanted to immobilize their prisoners even further, they pulled on the chains that were attached to the thick collars around their necks. Jigen heard the approach of footsteps just a few seconds before he felt his throat cruelly constricted, his head yanked back against the cage wall. He struggled, because it would arouse suspicion if he didn’t, but he didn’t put all of his energy into it. He had to conserve what he could for the escape. Because they would escape from this place, and Jigen was going to put a bullet into the heads of every single one of these sick sons of bitches. 

He struggled until he felt the swift stab of a needle in his shoulder, gone just as quickly as it came, and he could neither see it nor predict where it would stick him next, so there was almost no chance of grabbing hold of one to use later. Maybe Lupin could have pulled it off, but he wasn’t here. Then the drugs kicked in, making him sluggish and stupid. When he was limp against the floor of the cage, only then did his captors dare to open the door.

They were given a bowl of food once per day, and a bowl of water. Dog bowls. From the smell of the food, it might have been actual canned dog food, but Jigen wasn’t sure they were so lucky. He ate as much of it as he could stomach, and drank the water until the bowl was dry. He knew there were ways to “earn” more food and water, but he wasn’t that far gone just yet. The very idea of what these bastards were doing to the people in the cages made him sick. 

Jigen watched it happen to the others, helpless to do anything else. Yelling at the captors only drew their attention, and that brought more cruel treatment. At least by bearing witness to the horror, by learning everything he could, Jigen could try to form some sort of plan. So far, all he’d learned was that he was never going to sleep peacefully again. 

It was some sort of human trafficking ring, except they were “training” their human merchandise to behave like animals. Dogs, specifically, thus the kennels and the terrible food. It didn’t stop there, though. Through cycles of sedatives, hallucinogenic drugs, negative and positive reinforcement, they were stripping their captives of human speech and behavior, leaving brainwashed beasts that would do anything for their new “masters”. 

The first things to go were their clothes. Jigen and Zenigata had been stripped naked on their first days in the cages, left with nothing but a thin blanket for warmth. Their hats were taken, which left Jigen feeling more naked than the lack of pants, or even his Magnum. After all, their captors jeered, dogs don’t wear hats. Jigen punched that one in the nose. He quickly learned that was a mistake. If they acted out, the blankets were taken away. Jigen hated how quickly he stopped fighting back, but he realized he would die of exposure if he didn’t play the long game. So he only struggled a little, and he didn’t shout obscenities or threats at his captors anymore, and they let him keep his blanket. 

Next to go was any semblance of privacy. The cages were kept close together, and there was nowhere to go to the bathroom except through the floor of the cage, which was the same thick wire mesh as the walls. The cages were raised about three feet off the ground on sturdy metal legs, and the ground was covered in a thick layer of sawdust. Every day, their captors shoveled away the soiled sawdust and replaced it with more. It didn’t remove the stench, though, or the fact that they had no toilet paper, and sometimes the mesh of the cage floor retained traces of offal and urine that they then had to sleep on. 

But their captors weren’t interested in unhygienic products, so they did wash the prisoners: every third day, the sawdust was completely swept away. Then the hoses were brought in. The jets of water were hard and cold enough to hurt. Jigen could only curl up as small as he could make himself and protect his face and genitals as best he could until it was over. They were given fresh blankets after the washing, and once the floor had drained, new sawdust was once again put down. 

The third and fourth things to go were dignity and bodily autonomy. Those had been eroded already by the first two, so it wasn’t that great a shock when the captors began the next phase of training: anal plugs, with sculpted silicone dog tails coming out the end. Jigen had not yet submitted to that treatment, but he knew it was a matter of time before they started taking even his meager rations of food and water away. The plugs had to be worn for an increasing amount of time every day, and could only be inserted or removed by the “trainers”, lest the prisoner receive even harsher punishment. The plugs themselves also increased in size over time, starting with something about the size of Jigen’s pinky finger and working up to plugs slightly larger than Zenigata’s fist. Jigen shuddered to think of having one of those shoved up his ass by cold, uncaring hands. 

The whimpering from one of the other cages swelled into sobbing, but there was an unmistakable rhythm to the cries that made Jigen clench his jaw until his teeth creaked. That was the phase after, and concurrent with, the plug training. Once a certain size of plug had been taken without trouble, a prisoner could expect to have it removed at random and replaced with one of their captor’s dicks. They were fucked methodically, mechanically, and once the captor had ejaculated, they’d swiftly re-insert the plug to prevent any from leaking out, sometimes for hours. 

Jigen did not want that to happen to him. More than that, and it surprised him to realize it, he didn’t want it to happen to Zenigata. Pops was tough as anything. He had survived far more preposterous situations than this. Jigen just couldn’t stomach the idea of someone violating him that way. It was wrong even beyond the inherent wrongness of this whole fucked-up situation. 

“Is it time to break in this one?” Jigen froze at the voice of one of the captors coming from behind him. His collar was pulled tight against the far wall of the cage again, but he didn’t feel the sting of a needle this time. He held still, barely daring to breathe, pulse pounding behind his eyes. The cage door opened. He flinched from the cold touch of a hand on his hip, then kicked back as hard as he could. He felt a momentary satisfaction as his heel crunched into someone’s sternum and drove a startled “Oof!” out of the man, but then his ankles were grabbed and yanked so that he fell flat on his face and belly. His limp cock hung through the floor of the cage, and he snarled as a latex-gloved hand gave it a punishing tug through the mesh. “Hmm, it’s still got some bite left in it. More of a mangy coyote than a dog. Better let it alone for the night and see if it’s more cooperative tomorrow.”

The two men that Jigen had not seen during this entire exchange laughed, then shoved his legs back through the door and locked it behind him. The cold blast of the hose was unexpected and Jigen yelled, as did the others trapped in his radius. His blanket, now soaked and cold, was still better than nothing, as he wrapped it around himself and shivered on the bottom of the cage.

When he looked over to Zenigata, he saw that the cop’s eyes were clearer now than before, the sedative worn off. He was staring at Jigen. Jigen couldn’t stand to see the concern in those eyes. The pity. Zenigata tried to shove the corner of his own thin blanket through the bars of the cage, but Jigen shook his head soundlessly. Zenigata couldn’t be caught trying to help Jigen, or they’d be separated. Jigen needed Zenigata right where he was, if he was going to get them both out of there. Zenigata slowly pulled his blanket back and heaved a frustrated sigh through his nose, communicating nonverbally that he wished he could do anything to help. Jigen just offered him a wry smile and a nod of acknowledgment, then rolled over as much as his confines would allow and tried to get some rest.

…

They broke Jigen by the seventh day of his imprisonment. He took the first plug with a hiss of discomfort, spine tight, and then that was it for a while. Zenigata fought longer, which Jigen had warned him against, but the old man was too stubborn for his own good. It only meant that when they finally did break Zenigata, he broke hard. He sobbed through that first night they left the plug in him, every small motion of his hips making the little silicone tail wag mockingly. Zenigata wouldn’t look at Jigen, so Jigen did his best to return the favor. Their covert whispers grew fewer and further between, but every so often they’d still meet each others’ eyes and reach through the cages for the briefest touch of fingertips. It was a way of grounding them, of reminding each other that they were in this together, and they would get out together. It was hope. 

The last of his ragged fingernails broke, along with Jigen’s hope of rescue. The metal screw remained stubbornly in place. 

The training escalated over time, as Jigen had observed from the others before him. The “random” fucking was actually fairly predictable, once he figured out the pattern. He bore it all as stoically as he could, not letting them get much more noise from him than muffled grunts and gasps. It was easier to label it as fucking, than as rape. If Jigen started to think of himself a rape victim, he was going to lose his goddamn mind. 

“Sometimes, I think I might enjoy it,” Zenigata confided to him one night, face all but pressed to the wall of his cage, fingers curled around the mesh. “It doesn’t always feel so bad, if I just relax and let it happen. I… I got hard the last time.”

“It’s not your fault,” Jigen told him automatically. “It’s okay to relax, so it hurts less. And it’s normal that… that kind of stimulation would… you know. It’s just biology. You’re not doing anything wrong, Pops.” It hurt to talk about it. It hurt to think about it. 

“Right. Biology.” Zenigata took a deep, shuddering breath. It was dark, but Jigen thought he might be crying again. “They’re gonna pay for this.”

“Prison’s too good for them.”

“You can’t just kill them all. Someone has to answer for this, and we need to find out who’s running this operation.”

Jigen stared directly into Zenigata’s eyes, and maybe he _was_ more coyote than dog, because Zenigata shrank back a little from the intensity of his gaze. “I’m going to kill every last one of them, and when I find their boss, I’ll kill _him_ too, and when I find _his_ boss, I’ll kill _him_ , too.”

Zenigata looked like he wanted to lecture Jigen on making homicidal threats in front of an officer of the law, but thought better of it. Instead, he stretched his fingers towards Jigen, and Jigen automatically met them with his own. Zenigata whispered, “I’m with you.”

…

It took a total of three weeks for Lupin to find them.

In his defense, he’d had plenty of reason to believe that Jigen was dead, and Zenigata as well. By this point, training had progressed to allowing the “animals” out of their cages at certain times of the day for additional training. They went through a modified version of obedience training for dogs, learning commands like sit, heel, and so forth. There were also commands that were not in a typical dog’s repertoire, nearly all sexual in nature. Jigen carefully wrapped the important parts of his mind away for safekeeping, and let the remainder follow these commands like the obedient automaton his captors wanted him to be. Zenigata appeared to be doing the same, after his struggles and outbursts failed to achieve results. Jigen admired the fire that burned in the old guy, but wished he would consider the value of biding his time a little more. 

When Lupin finally arrived, Goemon right behind him, Jigen and Zenigata were in their cages, blessedly not wearing the tail plugs—or worse, undergoing any other training. Still, the looks on his friends’ faces were enough to make Jigen burn with shame. 

“Don’t just stand there, get us out!” he barked, voice hoarse.

“I knew it’d take more than an explosion to kill you, Jigen-chan,” Lupin said fondly. “Sorry for the wait. Goemon?”

Goemon had already moved, and Jigen felt a breeze over his head as the tops of all the nearby cages clattered to the floor. He did the same for every kennel in the room, and then again for the collars. Jigen knew there had to be some fifty or more people, most of them men, but there were prisoners of other genders and sex presentations as well. Hard to tell, when everyone was equally naked and forbidden from speaking. Lupin swiftly passed out a stack of hospital gowns, plastic bathroom slippers, and scrub pants. Most put them on, grateful for the first clothing they’d worn in days or weeks, but several just stared at the simple clothes as though they’d never heard of getting dressed. Zenigata was one of them.

“C’mon, Pops,” Jigen coaxed, once he’d dressed himself. Zenigata had not fared well over the past couple of weeks, withdrawing more and more into himself until he was as dull-eyed as some of the others. Jigen was afraid it might be too late to undo the conditioning he’d undergone. “Put the pants on. We’re getting out of here.”

Zenigata gave him a glassy stare and blinked slowly, sitting at the door of his cage with his legs dangling over the side. Jigen began to shove the pants up over his feet, his legs, pulling them up as though dressing an overgrown toddler, but when he reached around mid-thigh, Zenigata growled at him.

Jigen froze. “Just helping you get dressed, Pops. No funny business, yeah?” He reached up carefully and touched his fingertips to Zenigata’s, and the snarl slowly faded, recognition and trust taking its place. “There we go. Let me help you with this, and then we’re gonna run, okay?”

Zenigata nodded slowly, still not fully with it. He did let Jigen dress him, though. 

“I’ve got real clothes back at the safe house,” Lupin informed them. “We’ve got a hospital standing by, ready to take in everyone. Well, everyone but you, Jigen. Fujiko found a doctor who can come check you over. She’s waiting outside with the car.”

“The guys who did this?” Jigen asked, already knowing the answer and hating it. He should have been the one to deal with them. He wanted to make them suffer. He _deserved_ to be the one to make them suffer.

“Dead, or tied up and ready to deliver to the police. Hear that, Pops? You’ll get to come out of this a hero!”

Zenigata did not hear Lupin. Instead, he pressed close to Jigen’s side, keeping his gaze cast downward. Jigen was compelled to put an arm around his shoulders, carefully, giving him an awkward pat. “Uh, Lupin, about that… I don’t think Pops is doing so hot. We should get him to the hospital and get the fuck out of here.”

Lupin looked puzzled, assessing the way Zenigata was standing by Jigen. His frown deepened with worry. “Jeez, what the fuck did they do to you guys?”

“I’ll tell you all about it once I’ve had a proper shower and can put real clothes on,” Jigen said tiredly. 

Lupin nodded. He managed to get one of Zenigata’s arms over his shoulders, while Goemon let Jigen lean on him. Thus supported, the four men shuffled out of the facility, followed by fifty-odd other humans in various states of shock and confusion. Some of them would only walk on all fours. Zenigata tried, but with Lupin holding him, he could only hunch over a little. He kept looking over at Jigen, as if worried that Jigen was leaving him, but they all stayed close together. 

Jigen blinked as the doors opened to the street, city noises and smells all around them. The converted science lab they exited was immediately raided by police, who only paid attention to the gown-wearing victims long enough to direct them to the paramedics. Jigen watched as they were loaded into the ambulances as many as five at a time, for those who could sit and stand well enough, while others were placed on stretchers and given IV drips before transfer. He reached over to Zenigata and touched his fingertips again. “Your turn, Pops. Don’t worry, they’ll take good care of you.”

But Zenigata wouldn’t go. When Lupin tried to guide him over to the paramedics, he whined, struggled, and finally bolted away from Lupin to attach himself to Jigen’s side. Goemon looked understandably startled, but Jigen just sighed. “Zenigata. You can’t come with us. You’re trying to arrest us, remember? Let’s just go our separate ways and maybe we can pretend this whole mess never happened.”

Zenigata whimpered and shook his head, tucking his face against Jigen’s shoulder and hugging his left arm. It should have been embarrassing for both of them. It _was_ embarrassing, but Jigen just wanted to shoot something more than ever.

“Let’s just take him with us,” Fujiko suggested, pulling the car up to the curb. It was thankfully something a little roomier than the Fiat. “Our doctor can look him over just as well. We can’t just send him back home like this. Look at the poor guy!”

Zenigata had dropped to his knees and was leaning against Jigen’s legs so hard that Jigen had to brace himself against Goemon on his other side to stay upright. He was shaking violently and breathing hard. 

Goemon closed his eyes in a pained expression. “The ones who did this to Jigen and the Inspector deserved far worse than what we gave them.”

Jigen had never agreed with Goemon more.

It took some doing, but they managed to bundle Zenigata into the back seat, Jigen on one side, Lupin on the other. Fujiko drove, and Goemon rode in the passenger front seat instead of the roof, like he was a normal person for once. The gentle motion of the car on the road lulled Jigen into a shallow nap, but he jerked awake as soon as they arrived at the safe house. Zenigata had curled up against him, practically sitting in his lap, which made opening the car door tricky. 

Zenigata clambered out on all fours and was determined to walk all the way into the safe house in that manner. He’d left the bathroom slippers in the car so his bare feet and hands were black with dirt by the time he got to the door. Fujiko held up a hand.

“Stop right there. You’re not messing up the carpet like that. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

When she pulled out a length of garden hose, intending to help Zenigata wash his hands and feet before coming inside, the reaction was even worse than Jigen could have predicted. Jigen flinched bodily at the sight, but Zenigata straight up howled with terror and remembered pain. He cowered on the doorstep, rolling over to present his belly in surrender. Fujiko looked stricken by this performance. She stared at Jigen, eyes wide.

“What the _actual hell_ happened?”

Jigen ignored her and stripped off his hospital gown, leaving on the pants and slippers. He grabbed the hose from Fujiko as though it were a live viper and gritted his teeth, using it to wet the gown a little with water before flinging the hose away. Then he knelt beside the distressed Zenigata and gently wiped off his hands and feet with the damp cloth. It was cold, but they were used to that by now. 

“I said I’d explain later,” Jigen growled. “In the meantime, Pops isn’t exactly himself, so go easy on him, all right? It was a rough three weeks.”

“You were dead and on the other side of the planet,” Lupin pointed out, unusually anxious. Zenigata’s behavior had him deeply rattled. “I got there as soon as I could. Jigen, I swear—”

Jigen closed his eyes and counted three deep breaths. “I know, Lupin. I don’t blame you, I really don’t. Thank you. Right now I just wanna eat some real food, shower, smoke, and sleep, mostly in that order.”

…

The doctor that checked them over didn’t find any lasting or serious injuries. He’d even given them STI tests, which came back thankfully negative, despite what their captors had been doing to them. The psychological damage, however, was beyond this doctor’s expertise. He recommended therapy, or at least some time and quiet to deal with the terrible events before returning to everyday life.

…

Eventually, they got the story out of Jigen. Even Lupin remained uncharacteristically quiet as Jigen recounted the harrowing experience. He glossed over some of the more graphic details—he didn’t give a damn about there being a ‘lady’ in the room, since it was only Fujiko, but he didn’t think he could stand the disgust and pity in the eyes of his friends when they realized what exactly had been done to him on a daily basis. Also it felt like violating Zenigata further, telling the others about what had happened to him without his permission.

“So. That’s what they were doing. Making people into animals, then selling them as pets, or sex slaves, or both.”

Goemon, of all people, offered Jigen a reassuring grip on his shoulder. “My respect for you is not diminished, Jigen. You are a man of honor and integrity, and had I been in your place—”

“Don’t. Don’t even say it like a hypothetical. I wouldn’t wish what I went through on anyone,” Jigen cut him off fiercely. “Not my worst enemy, much less my friends. I didn’t even get the worst of it. Pops did. I gotta try to help him. I have to at least do that for him, since I couldn’t get him out before…”

Jigen cut himself off before he said too much. Lupin gave him a serious look, then nodded and offered one of his more genuine smiles. “It’s all right, Jigen. We’ll all take good care of Pops. At least until he’s ‘himself’ enough to go home. Promise, we won’t pass him off to be someone else’s problem. Pops is _our_ pain in the ass!”

Jigen smiled weakly in return, forgiving the phrasing even as it induced a phantom ache in his own body. “Thanks, Lupin.”

…

There were two full size beds and one couch in the safe house. Normally Goemon and Jigen would share a bed, Fujiko would get the other, and Lupin would either share with her or wind up on the couch. Or Jigen would pass out on the couch during the evening, and Lupin had a choice of sleeping next to Goemon or trying his luck with Fujiko again. 

Now with a fifth person in the mix, there was less wiggle room, figuratively and literally. Zenigata took up most of a full size bed, but thankfully he was used to sleeping in a cramped space, so he still curled up as small as possible. Jigen slept beside him, as Zenigata seemed to have latched onto Jigen as a safe person, or perhaps even something like a packmate, considering their canine behavioral training. As they lay on the bed together, facing one another, Jigen held up his hand between them. Zenigata automatically touched his fingers, just lightly, briefly. 

“You remember that? Why we did that?” Jigen asked, trying to jog something in Zenigata’s memory. 

Zenigata was finding speech difficult. “I’m with you,” he said haltingly. Then, small and wondering, “We got out.”

“I promised, didn’t I?” Jigen moved his hand closer with a purpose. He pressed his palm to Zenigata’s and wove their fingers together, giving a slow, gentle squeeze. “I’m right here. We’re out, and we’re not going back there. It’s done, Pops. We get to go back to being people again.”

“How?” That single, plaintive word was so filled with suffering, fear, that it broke Jigen’s heart. 

He took a deep breath. “We’ll figure it out.”

…

Zenigata didn’t even want to sleep on the bed at first. He tried to find a box big enough to curl up inside, but he was a large man and there were not many boxes appropriate for this purpose. Jigen compromised by sort of swaddling him in a blanket, so he was tucked in tight, like a burrito. This at least seemed to help Zenigata relax. Jigen tried to relax as well, but he knew that despite being functional on the surface, the experience had changed him as profoundly as it had Zenigata. He was just better at masking the damage. Wasn’t that the story of his life, though?

Jigen had a lot of conditioning to help Zenigata undo. Anytime someone opened or closed a door, he would flinch, until Jigen showed everyone how to close doors more quietly and threatened to shoot anyone who didn’t.

Getting Zenigata to eat at the table with the rest of them was a challenge, too. He kept trying to sneak his plate down to the floor, hiding under the table. Jigen practically had to sit on him to keep him in a chair, and he glared at Lupin and Fujiko, daring them to laugh. They didn’t.

Bath time was even more difficult. The running faucet still made them both jumpy, so Jigen had Goemon run them a warm bath, then Jigen got into it first. Slowly, he coaxed Zenigata to join him. It was a tight fit, but Jigen couldn’t even begin to feel embarrassed when Zenigata was like this. It was like bathing with a child. Jigen washed Zenigata’s hair and scrubbed him all over with the soap, rinsing him with a plastic cup full of water. He grinned when Zenigata hesitantly reached for the shampoo and returned the favor. 

“You’re doing great, Pops,” Jigen encouraged, and didn’t even care when Zenigata got soap in his eyes. 

…

Naturally, Lupin couldn’t help but be a little bit of a shit about the whole situation. “I always thought you’d look good in a collar,” he teased. “Maybe I should get you two some supplies. In case you need to reenact something that’ll jog Pops’ memory.”

Jigen didn’t like his tone. “Lupin,” he warned. “Don’t get any bright ideas. This wasn’t a fun time for me or Pops, whatever your weird, horny dog-boy fantasies might be.”

“Look, you have to admit it’s kinda hot,” Lupin barreled ahead. “Stuck in a little cage, wagging your tail, pressed up against the bars so anyone can cop a feel—”

Jigen’s gun was in his hand and pressed to Lupin’s forehead before he could blink. “If you so much as _think_ about treating me and Zenigata the way those twisted fucks treated us, I will shoot that thought right out of your fool skull,” he snarled, spitting with fury. Lupin’s eyes were so wide they looked like they might fall right out of their sockets as he raised his hands slowly in surrender. Jigen jabbed him in the head with the Magnum again, to make sure his point was made. “The men who did this to us weren’t even men, they were _monsters_. They were turning human beings into puppy-brained fuck toys. _Human beings_ , Lupin. Including me and Pops. Don’t you fucking _dare_ …”

His voice cracked and his hand wavered. Lupin carefully wrapped both of his hands around Jigen’s wrist and moved the Magnum out of his face. “Jigen,” Lupin said, voice low and serious, “I’m sorry. I won’t joke about it anymore.”

Lupin almost never apologized, not sincerely. It was enough to crack the mask Jigen wore, and he choked on a sob. Lupin pulled him into a tight embrace before he could even think to run away. "I'm glad you're alive," he whispered into Jigen's hair. "I know you wanted to kill those guys, but I'm glad I got to do it for you."

Jigen let himself be held, let the tears fall, let the rage and the grief and the horror leave him in scream after scream that he muffled in Lupin’s shoulder until his voice gave out. Afterward, he felt scraped raw, but better. He pushed away from Lupin with arms that had become little more than overcooked noodles, but Lupin let him have his space anyway. 

“Don’t ever bring this up,” he mumbled. It was as close as a ‘thanks’ as he was going to give. Lupin understood. 

…

Zenigata recognized Lupin and the others— he was suffering from dissociation and PTSD, but not amnesia. At first, he only let Jigen help him with his ‘human training’, but over time he grew comfortable around the rest of the thieves to let them close as well. Lupin regaled him with stories of his adventures, ones that Zenigata featured in, and outrageously exaggerated the details and the stakes, as usual. This time he did it on purpose, though; he wanted Zenigata to chime in, to contradict him and argue over the events as they happened. It took a few tries to get Zenigata to speak, but once he did, he took to the game with enthusiasm, shouting at Lupin for his ridiculous lies and laughing at blunders like they were old friends, rather than “fated enemies”. When Zenigata calmed down from these sessions, however, he withdrew into himself and grew very quiet. Sometimes he left the living room entirely and curled up in bed. Jigen would often follow him.

“I know who I am,” Zenigata whispered, to himself as much as to Jigen. “Why can’t I be that person anymore?”

“Because sometimes when you get hurt too bad to heal easily, it leaves a scar.” Jigen sat behind him on the bed, resting a warm palm between his shoulder blades. “Scars can form on the mind and the soul just as much as the body. Even if they heal, you’re never the same person as before.”

“Why aren’t you… like me? You were there for longer. But you seem completely normal.”

Jigen gave a feral little bark of laughter. “Just goes to show how well you know me, Pops. I’m anything but normal.”

Zenigata snorted. “You are friends with Lupin. I suppose I should have guessed.”

They chuckled together over that. Jigen settled into bed behind Zenigata, wrapping one skinny arm around his waist and just curling behind him. Zenigata was obviously taller and bigger, but Jigen could be the big spoon anyway. “I put on a good show, don’t I? All cool and collected on the surface. But I’m not okay, either. Hell, none of us who lived through that _should_ be okay.”

Zenigata nodded to show he was listening, but didn’t speak. Jigen continued: “I’m just familiar with getting hurt so badly I should’ve died. I’ve got a lot of scars to show for it. Doesn’t mean I’m better than you, or stronger, just more damaged. Anyway, being able to help you get back to something like your old self? That’s enough to keep me together. So, you’re helping me heal, too.”

The admission seemed to touch something deep in Zenigata, because his shoulders trembled. Jigen held him close and reached for his hand, slotting their fingers together. That only spurred Zenigata into rolling over to face Jigen, the naked emotion on his face leaving Jigen breathless. Slowly, Zenigata brought their joined hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of Jigen’s hairy knuckles. That charmingly archaic gesture brought heat to Jigen’s face. He swallowed. 

Zenigata moved in closer, until his face blocked out all the light from the doorway, until his face was all Jigen could see. Then Zenigata’s lips were on his, warm and questing and tasting faintly of bitter coffee and cigarettes. Jigen allowed the kiss, but didn’t press into it, as much as he would have liked to. It wasn’t right. Zenigata seemed to realize this, as Jigen didn’t move, so he backed off, mumbling apologies. 

Jigen shook his head. “Don’t apologize. It’s okay. I understand.” He tugged on Zenigata’s shoulders and arranged them so that Zenigata’s head was pillowed in the dip between Jigen’s shoulder and chest. He stroked Zenigata’s short hair slowly, then scratched lightly at his scalp with his (finally regrowing) fingernails. “I just don’t wanna do anything you’re gonna regret later, when you’re feeling more like yourself.”

“What if I never am?” Zenigata challenged. “What if this is who I am, now? A broken man who can’t stop acting like a dog, even when it’s over. They _broke_ me, Jigen.”

Jigen hated the whimper that crawled up into Zenigata’s throat when he spoke Jigen’s name. “You’re not broken, so shut up about that,” he snapped. “You’re damaged, but that’s not the same as broken. You can heal from this. You’re strong, Zenigata, one of the strongest men I know. Don’t you give up now.”

Zenigata bowed his head as he absorbed this. Jigen could almost hear the churning of the clockwork in his head. “Right. I understand,” he said. “I won’t give up. I’ll work hard, and prove that I am still a police officer. I’ll prove that I am still the man destined to capture Lupin the Third and bring him to justice!”

Now he was getting all fired up, and it brought a smile to Jigen’s lips. “That’s our Pops! Hold onto that feeling. You’ll be back to chasing us in no time.”

Zenigata nodded, then cracked his jaw open in a massive yawn. He was asleep in seconds. Jigen was almost jealous of his ability to drop off so quickly. He kept petting Zenigata’s hair, then nestled in and dozed off as well.

…

With Jigen’s help, they made progress, but it wasn’t a straight line between “traumatized” and “cured”. Some days Zenigata would be just like his old self, albeit an old self that was totally fine hanging out in a den of thieves. Some days he hid under the bed and wouldn’t come out, no matter what Jigen said or did. On the good days, he played cards with Lupin and Jigen, meditated with Goemon, and watched daytime television with Fujiko. On the bad days, he lost his ability to speak and had to communicate solely in canine growls and whines. He barked loudly once and nearly scared the pants off of Lupin (quite literally). If Jigen wasn’t available, Fujiko would often take over, drawing Zenigata over to the couch and letting him use her lap as a pillow while she petted his hair. It was the most kind, nurturing thing Jigen had ever seen her do, and it disturbed him that he thought she actually looked sweet.

It was a surreal domesticity, having them all in one place for so long without a job to do, and doubly weird for Zenigata’s presence. He had, in his lucid states, promised to adhere to a truce that they’d offered: they wouldn’t commit any crimes while Zenigata was there, and Zenigata wouldn’t immediately try to get them arrested once he was well enough to go back to Japan. He did, however, contact his superiors at Interpol and request time off to deal with the fallout of the trafficking case. They were surprisingly understanding when he explained that he’d been one of the captives, and that he was going to need some more time to process things before he could make his full report. He also told them that he would be spending time at a cabin in the woods for a bit of tranquility, and didn’t want to be disturbed until he was ready to come back. It was partially a lie, but he reasoned that it was a necessary one.

Zenigata didn’t want to impose on the thieves forever. For one thing, it was awkward living in the same house with them. For another, it was kind of a conflict of interests. He just wanted to be well enough to return to Interpol without looking like a lunatic, and then he could work through the rest of his issues with a proper therapist—or ignore all that, and just get right back to his normal hobbies of chasing Lupin and drinking himself stupid when he inevitably failed. But every time he thought he was getting better, he’d have another ‘bad’ day and slide right back into needing Jigen to remind him to use a fork, or wrap him in blankets and hold him tightly at night so he could sleep. If he didn’t know better, he’d suspect Jigen of delaying his recovery for his own reasons.

“But what the hell would I want to do that for?” Jigen asked, offended at the very notion, but mostly just confused. 

“I don’t know! The longer I’m here, the longer you’re all getting a free pass from going to prison.”

“Pops, we’re not doing anything illegal. We rented this house fair and square.”

“You kidnapped me!”

“You wouldn’t let us leave you at the hospital! You know you can walk out of here anytime you want, right?”

Zenigata stared in something like panic. Walk out? As in, go outside and face the world as a man he didn’t think he knew anymore? The suggestion was horrifying. He curled in on himself and whimpered, breathing speeding up until he was hyperventilating. 

“Ahhh, Zenigata, no. Shh, shhhh. I’m sorry. We’re not trying to kick you out or anything.” Jigen took his hand, folding their fingers together as he often did now, and it had the expected effect of making Zenigata slump against him, head butting against his bearded cheek. “I know it’s hard. It’s like doing a dance with two steps forward and one step back.”

“Country line dance,” Zenigata mumbled helpfully. 

“Yeah, like that. But we gotta keep making those steps forward, and even if we get set back again, we’ll get a little further next time. Then one day we won’t even realize we haven’t thought about what happened once all day. You’re gonna get there.”

“And you?”

Jigen’s face warmed. “I’m getting there, too. Don’t you worry about me.”

  
…

  
Lupin and Fujiko surprised them over dinner during the second week after the rescue, holding out wrapped parcels. “Happy birthday!” “Merry Christmas!” they chorused.

“It ain’t our birthdays, and Christmas was two months ago,” Jigen pointed out, taking the package from Fujiko with suspicion. When he opened it, though, he nearly hugged her. It was his suit, freshly pressed and dry-cleaned, his boots, and most importantly: “My hat!”

The hat went instantly onto Jigen’s head, and he felt such relief and comfort that it almost brought a tear to his eye. He could be fully dressed, but feel completely naked without a hat. Losing his favorite fedora had been among the worst of the injustices he’d endured, in his opinion. 

Zenigata’s parcel was the same thing: his suit, trenchcoat, boots, and hat, all clean and fresh for him. They’d thought the clothing had been thrown away or burned by their captors, but Lupin had returned to the crime scene and found a crate full of clothes near where he’d already retrieved Jigen’s gun. The clothes were filthy, though, and it had taken some time to find a dry cleaner that wouldn’t ask questions about the huge blood stains and concrete dust. 

Now that they were clean, Zenigata was just staring at them. Finally, he set his hat on his own head, and the tears that had threatened Jigen earlier rolled over to Zenigata. He wept almost silently, except for the subtle shaking of his shoulders and the wetness on his face.

“Dogs don’t wear hats,” Jigen said, remembering the words of his tormentors.

“Dogs don’t wear hats,” Zenigata agreed. “But we’re not dogs, are we?”

Jigen laughed, a _real_ laugh, with no bark to it. “No. We’re not dogs.”

  
…

  
That night, Jigen kissed Zenigata first. It was unhurried and surprisingly tender. Zenigata had always imagined ( _Always?_ Since when?!) that Jigen was an aggressive kisser. But Jigen just cupped that strong jaw with both hands and slowly, gently, took Zenigata apart with nothing more than that kiss. 

“What are you?” Jigen asked, breaking the kiss but keeping his mouth close to Zenigata’s, breath warm against his lips. 

Zenigata was distracted, confused. “I’m Zenigata Koichi?”

“Not who, _what_.”

Zenigata frowned. “I don’t… Ah. I’m not a dog.”

“Right, so what are you?”

“I’m a man.”

“Exactly. So if you’re going to take this further, you’re a man when you touch me. You’re a man when you fuck me. And I’m a man, too. Neither of us are animals. We are not dogs. We are men.”

It was probably the weirdest pre-sex pep talk he’d ever given, but it felt necessary. Zenigata nodded solemnly. 

“We are men. And as men, we have our own names. I am Zenigata Koichi. You are Jigen Daisuke. If I am touching you, fucking you as a man, I want you to use my name. Call me Koichi.”

“Then go ahead and use Daisuke, too.”

They lay on the bed for a time after that, just looking at each other. The conversation felt like the final ritual needed to break some terrible curse, leaving them in a hallowed, solemn space. Neither wanted to be the first to breach that sacred silence.

“I’m not sure I want to go back to my life,” Zenigata said so quietly Jigen nearly missed it. 

“What?”

“I mean, the police work, the chasing, the mad capers. I don’t know if I can do it anymore.”

Jigen sighed. It’d be disappointing to lose Pops to an early retirement, but maybe best for the long run. “I feel that, man. I haven’t been itching for a job since I got out of that place. Maybe I’m just getting old.”

Zenigata chuckled. “If you’re old, I’m ancient.”

“Just gonna crumble and blow away like dust in the wind.”

They had another good laugh at that.

“You could always do something else,” Jigen suggested.

Zenigata smiled sadly and shook his head. “No, I couldn’t.”

“No, you couldn’t. I couldn’t, either,” admitted Jigen. “Well. Someday when we do retire, don’t be a stranger, all right? We can just play cards and drink whiskey like normal old farts.”

Zenigata kissed him again, harder this time. “You’re not normal at all, and never will be,” he whispered reverently against Jigen’s lips. “But you’re a good man, Jigen Daisuke. I’m glad… I’m glad you were with me.”

“Still am,” Jigen pointed out, and this time when he went in to kiss Zenigata, he didn’t stop.

_..._

_end_

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it this far: I apologize. -_- Also thank you for giving this weird, sad fic a chance. It's my first in this fandom so I would really appreciate any kudos or comments, even very brief ones. Leave me an emoji, heck. 
> 
> A sequel/coda to this fic is in the works, checking in on Jigen and Zenigata months or a year into the future, when they're both much further along in their recovery. It will be a happier fic, I think, but that bar is SO LOW. There may even be some Tender, Consensual Smut, the sort I didn't feel comfortable including in this fic. I mean, the gentlemen had suffered enough, I wanted to give them a little privacy. (I am totally normal.)


End file.
